


See Me If You Can

by whatcolourmyeyes



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatcolourmyeyes/pseuds/whatcolourmyeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s in the middle of the story and she has barely begun. She deserves better, could easily have fallen for someone less dangerous, someone who wouldn't condemn her to such an unfortunate fate, but this path has already been half-lived three times, and it is starting to wear a groove into the very fabric of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Trickster, liar, cheat. He has had many names. Gods are liable to have a history of titles, some more disreputable than others. Chaos is never purely good, though she will tell him that it is not purely evil either. She calls him her magician. He thinks he likes this name best of all, though he knows that to grow attached to it – to her – is something only a fool would do. And he is no fool.

He is not truly hers, for gods do not yield to mere mortals, yet he allows her this false presumption, because it will all mean nothing once the enchantment is complete. Monsters do not have hearts, and so they devour everyone else’s and play pretend. This is, after all, one big illusion, for is love not the greatest lie of all? And Loki, the greatest liar?

The whole thing’s a joke – he’s in the middle of the story and she has barely begun. She doesn’t even know that the one to break her heart is the same god who tried to enslave her planet months ago. She deserves better, could easily have fallen for someone less dangerous, someone who wouldn’t condemn her to such an unfortunate fate, but this path has already been half-lived three times, and it is starting to wear a groove into the very fabric of time.

\--

Darcy woke up with a start, her heart beating like a rabbit’s. She wiped her clammy hands on her oversized T-shirt, and tucked her legs under the fabric. She had the odd sensation of being watched, and shivered as she remembered the pair of cold green eyes that had haunted her dream. They had looked practically grey as they taunted her with just a glance, a cool sort of amusement that reminded her oddly of a more sinister version of Tony – Oh no, Tony. “Shit!” she yelped, as she looked at her alarm clock. 8:04 a.m. She should have left for work half an hour ago. Stark was gonna kill her. “Fuck bugger shit fuck fuck…” A steady stream of obscenities exited her mouth as she tugged on a pair of pantyhose viciously, her eyes searching the room for the black pencil skirt she had planned on wearing. She picked up a tank top off the floor and shamelessly sniffed it – good enough. A black blazer went on top of that, and then, with the zip of the retrieved skirt and a quick look in the mirror, she was ready to go.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s the same every time. When he first meets Darcy Lewis, they will be in New York, in one of the uppermost floors of Stark Tower. She will ask him if he really slept with a horse (really, the things these Midgardians come up with), and he will laugh despite himself. She’s never expecting him, will later tell him that she wasn’t expecting any of this. He could warn her, he supposes, but these mortals are so easily scared, and he doubts that a warning that would only look like a cruel threat would ingratiate him with her. And Odin help him, despite it all, he needs her approval. It’s a sick joke that the universe has decided to play. He must have her, but he will destroy her, and the knowledge that everything that happens past this point is his fault will eat away at him, and gradually destroy him, in turn.

\--

“Hello, princess,” says Stark, as Darcy tries to sneak into her cubicle unnoticed. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?” “Coffee,” she groans. He passes her a cup and she downs it in one gulp. “Anyway, a queen is never late – everyone else is simply early.” “Yeah, well, guess who decided to come early today? And I don’t mean Pepper,” Tony smirked, as his assistant walked by. “I heard that,” she reproached him as she walked by, carrying a pile of forms to his office, but his grin widened as he noticed the pink blush on her cheeks. “You know you love me, Peps.” Darcy spun in her new swivel chair, trying not to feel jealous. Pepper’s heels clicked briskly on the floor as she made her way back to Darcy’s desk, carrying a fresh cup of coffee. “You look like you’ll need another,” she smiled at the girl, deftly fixing Tony’s tie, and permitting him one small kiss. Darcy felt a small wave of guilt wash over her as she took a sip of coffee – no more of that. She was happy for Pepper, and she wasn’t going to let her own forever-aloneness make her a miserable person. Anyway, there was nothing wrong with being single; she was only twenty-two, it’s not like she was an old maid. _And what would be so wrong with that?_ she reminded herself. Some other, annoying part of her brain started regurgitating a decade’s worth of hopelessly romantic ideals, but Darcy just tossed her head and turned back to Tony. He was still making googly eyes at Pepper.

“Ahem.” “Sorry, Darce. As I was about to say, certain _envoys_ from Asgard arrived today…” Darcy squealed. “… so I don’t think you’ll be seeing much of Jane for the next two weeks.” “Thor is back?!” “Don’t get too excited – this is strictly Avengers work.” She raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. “And Jane?” “That sexual tension needed to be resolved for everyone’s sake. But I believe I mentioned ‘envoys’… Reindeer Games himself will also be joining our ranks, somewhat unwillingly, if his deliberate silence towards all of us is any indication. Either that, or he’s finally learned to shut up after getting his lips sewn shut.” Darcy’s eyes widened. “Odin would do that to his own son? That’s barbaric! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I hate the guy, but...” “How _kind_ of you to defend me,” drawled a deep, accented voice. Darcy would always feel proud that she did _not_ jump in her seat at the unexpected intrusion, and turned around to face Loki, God of Mischief coolly. Cocking one eyebrow, she looked him in the eye and smirked with more bravado than she felt.

“Why the sulky face?” she asked. “Whole Glow Stick of Destiny thing didn’t really work out for you?” His jaw clenched, but she was also certain that she saw his mouth twitch. “Did your special horse friend leave you?” She was pretty proud of herself, and at the fact that she got an actual reaction from him. “Please tell me that whole Sleipnir thing isn’t true,” she added, and he did smile this time, albeit mockingly. “I was never at such a loss for partners that I had to go to the stables.” “Till now, I’m sure. Trying and failing to enslave a planet – and getting beat up by Hulk to boot – can’t be good for your game.” “You seem interested enough in my escapades, Miss Lewis. Perhaps all hope is not yet lost.” Tony laughed awkwardly and put on a pair of sunglasses. “Guess I’ll leave you two kids to it, then…” _He is literally skipping away,_ abandoning _me with_ Loki _and without a comeback?_ Darcy fumed inwardly. Crossing her arms, she smirked at the god who was now leaning his godly ass against her desk. “Oh, honey, I don’t date bad boys. And super-villains definitely fall into the category of bad.” “I can be _very_ good… there’s a reason they call me Silver tongue.” God, the way the words were falling out of his mouth, Loki just seemed to ooze sex appeal. Silver tongue, indeed. Darcy could feel her cheeks growing warmer.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt like she had played this scene out before. She had considered the possibility that the Avengers would be working with Mr. Psychopath, had relished in the idea of being able to slap him and tell him to his face how much she hated him, but now that he was here, Darcy couldn’t bring herself to do it. She seemed to fall into the pattern of the verbal sparring match too easily, like it was a familiar routine. Her anger was still there, of course, bubbling under the surface, and providing her with plenty of ammunition for snarky comments, but there was something in the way he looked at her that made her hesitate before she could bring herself to actually hit one of the most dangerous and also probably most unstable super-villains in the universe. She really wasn’t scared of him. And that in and of itself – the fact that she could so easily forget how dangerous he really was – _did_ terrify her. Later, when she was back at her desk, inputting values into a spreadsheet for Jane, she realized what it was that she saw when she looked in his eyes, but it was ridiculous: what she saw was respect, the same mocking yet admiring gaze that haunted her dreams.

To tell the truth, what she saw was love, but even in her mind, she refused to think something so obviously vain and unlikely and **messed-up** for more than three seconds. She wondered why her belief that such a thing would be impossible made her throat tighten.


	3. Chapter 3

The world is on fire. Again. He’s only been this far three times, but he dreams about it every night. He tries to concentrate on the smell of her hair, the feeling of her arms wrapped trustingly around him, but the smoke hangs too thick in the air for him to keep focused for long, and he can smell her blood. It feels like it’s everywhere. Everything is growing blurry, and he isn’t thinking, can only see a flash of blue light and it’s all gone. There is nothing but Loki and Darcy and the darkness that surrounds them on all sides, held off only weakly by the glimmer of his magic. He knows that she is dying, and he tries to push himself to give it all to her, all his strength, all his power. Her heart starts to beat more steadily, her cheeks turn pinker, but it is no more lasting than one of his illusions, and soon her breathing is shallow again, her forehead clammy, her skin practically grey. He can feel his own glamour fading, his most basic magic melting from his skin, turning it from ivory to sapphire. He’s speaking, he doesn’t even know what, just a constant mantra of “Darcy, Darcy, Darcy, live, my love, live.” She smiles at him despite the tears in her eyes. “Look, I’m almost as cold as you!”

He’s crying now, isn’t even trying to hide it. Grief shadows her face, and she gazes into his now red eyes. “I love you. Always. My magician. When I d-” He stops Darcy before she can mention what they both know is inevitable, pushing death away for a few moments longer, rocking her in his arms as they wait. He used to think of death in terms of ‘if’s’, not ‘when’s’, but now is too late even for Idunn’s apples, for even they cannot make anyone truly immortal. Darcy trembles, and he pulls her closer. He covers her lips with his own one last time, and then there is no Darcy, no Loki, nothing but the darkness.

\--

“Darcy?” Darcy turned around and grinned as she saw Jane walking out the elevator, arm in arm with the God of Thunder himself. “Jane! Thor! Hey, big guy. How’s Mew Mew?” “Darcy Lewis! How good it is to see you again,” he boomed. Darcy ran over and gave him a bear hug before wrapping her arms around Jane and squeezing her tight. Jane looked positively radiant, and as Darcy stepped back, Jane and Thor seem to subconsciously rotate towards each other like flowers towards the sun. _God, Darcy, stop with the damn metaphors. This isn’t a Grade 12 English essay._ Jane and Thor smiled into each other’s eyes, and Darcy counted to thirty before exhaling loudly and interrupting them in the blunt way she was known for. “I wasn’t expecting you to be at work today,” Darcy prodded. Jane caught herself staring at Thor and quickly looked away, blushing. “Oh, um, yes… The Avengers are having a meeting with Director Fury today, and I couldn’t just abandon you here, so I decided to come in and get started on going over our data.” Thor nodded, and bowed to Jane with a murmured “my lady” before heading over to the conference room.

“I’m assuming you know that Mr. Deathstick of Overcompensation is also gracing the Avengers with his presence?” Darcy mock-glared at her friend, and Jane bit her lip anxiously. “I meant to tell you! I was going to, when I found out, but then I saw Thor, and I…” “Got distracted?” Jane turned a brighter shade of pink. Darcy grinned evilly. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t go bothering you for details. Yet.” Jane’s eyes widened almost comically.

The two made their way down to the lab, and Jane visibly relaxed as she re-entered her private world of facts and figures and no boy-talk. Darcy loved Jane to bits, she really did, but sometimes the girl was no fun.

Darcy picked up one of Jane’s notebooks and started her work of translating Jane’s barely legible scrawl into something presentable. Her job wasn’t almost the most exciting, but Darcy didn’t usually feel so empty doing it. Her hands seemed to be on auto-pilot, rapidly typing as her eyes skimmed the note paper in front of her. She found herself looking to the right-hand corner of her screen every few minutes, checking the time. Finally, she gave in. “Jane?” Jane looked up from her papers and stretched her arms out. “Yeah?” “You know, you really don’t have to do this – I don’t mind! Take another day off. Take two. It’s been months since you missed a single day of work; live a little! Can’t this wait?” Her words were almost desperate; she never whined about her job. No matter how boring it got. No matter how many times she had to literally spoon-feed Jane because she wouldn’t look away from her notes. But all she could think about were those taunting green eyes, so similar to the ones in her dreams. She hadn’t slept last night; every time she tried to close her eyes, she saw a face that was becoming clearer and clearer, heard a voice that sounded more and more familiar.

“Darcy, what’s wrong? You seem a little… off.” Jane was wearing her trademark look of motherly concern, and her attention was suddenly focused entirely on her friend. “…how do you like your soon-to-be brother-in-law?” Darcy asked hesitantly. Jane looked around nervously, and, seeing that no one was there, turned back to Darcy. “He still refuses to talk to Thor,” she admitted. “He isn’t one to talk much at all, actually. Except…” “Except what?” Jane paused. “Well, he seems to have taken an interest in you,” she whispered. Darcy felt a shiver down her spine. “Be _careful_ , Darce. I know you’re a big girl now, but I need to warn you. He could never love you.” Darcy faked a laugh. Pretty convincingly, too, if she did say so herself. “Jane, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, please trust me on this: that would never happen.” Darcy felt what was becoming a familiar sinking feeling in her stomach even as the words left her mouth. She and Loki would never… could never… “Anyway, I’m fine, really. Just had too much coffee, I guess. I’ll go get a water or something.”

Darcy let out a long breath as the glass door to the lab came to a stuttering click behind her. Tears stung at the back of her eyes, and she felt grateful that no one could see her in this moment. It was ridiculous, after all. She barely knew him, and what she did know hardly did him any credit. This was _Loki_. Supreme Psychopath. Evil Destroyer of Worlds. This was no time for puppy love.

Unseen, a pair of haunting green eyes watched her as Darcy took a breath and tried to calm her shaking hands. Unseen, Loki, God of Mischief, felt his own heart break as he realized what he had to do to save the woman he loved.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: descriptions of blood.

Heavy footfalls beat out a familiar pattern as they moved back and forth behind the door. _One, two, three, four, pause, one, two, three_. Thor had been pacing there for what felt like hours, faltering every time another loud crash sounded from within the room.

He heard his brother – _no, not brother, never brother_ – pause and almost-knock for the third time in a row. “If you wish to wear away the very foundations of our lodgings, by all means, don’t stop,” Loki scowled. The wooden door creaked as it opened, Thor’s footsteps hesitant as he entered the room. His boots crunched as he walked forward; there was a hole in the center of the thick stone wall, and debris was scattered on the floor, drops of drying blood painting them brownish red. Loki’s fists were clenched, and the knuckles were bruised and bleeding. The two were polar opposites – Loki’s every muscle was tensed, like a cat about to attack (or run away), while Thor looked like a meek puppy expecting punishment.

“I see you’re redecorating,” Thor murmured. His voice was quieter than usual, and the brotherly concern in his eyes seemed to have beaten out the barely concealed apprehension that usually resided there. Loki almost smiled. _That Jane Foster seems to have improved his wit, at least._ _Still, no good can come from letting him get involved. I am sorry… Brother._ “Leave me,” he growled. He raised his hand again…“Brother?” With a loud _crack_ , Loki brought his fist forward once more, and smiled humourlessly as he felt the stone cut into his skin.

\--

A hard laugh echoed and bounced off the cave walls, distorting as it wrapped around her like a snake, gradually tightening its hold. The walls of the cave seemed to grow closer and closer together, and her heartbeat stuttered as she tried to breathe. “Darcy Lewis, you foolish mortal,” It hissed. Each word seemed to cut straight through her and reverberate through her bones. The voice sounded impossible old, so ancient that it had passed out of the dominion of time. It was without any feeling, lacking even in malice.

Darcy wished she could pull out one of her comebacks at times like these – at 5’4’’, and no work-out in recent memory, sarcasm was her only real defence – but she couldn’t open her mouth. The harder she tried, the harder it became. Her head was pounding, and her vision was growing blurry around the edges. Seeing a flash of blue light, Darcy began to run blindly – trying to put as much distance as possible between her and that voice.

The floor shifted under her, and her feet slid. She fell hard, rocks cutting deep into her palms. From the darkness, ghostly white hands reached down and traced the edges of her lips almost lovingly.

She felt, more than saw, the flash of silver, and then she was aware only of the pain. A drop of hot blood trickled over her mouth. The weight of an arm over her waist stopped Darcy from moving away, and as the silver moved up and down, she felt like her words were being taken from her one by one, being pulled out of her and left to dissipate into the darkness.

Tears streamed down her face, and her lips felt like they were on fire. The hands stroked her cheeks, trembling. “All hope is not yet lost,” murmured a shaky yet familiar baritone. She groggily wondered where she had heard that before, but everything was becoming hazy.

As the world started to collapse into fireworks that flickered behind her eyelids, she caught a glimpse of glowing blue eyes.

Something told her that they should have been green.

\--

With a jolt, Darcy sat up and turned to look at her clock. The red display glowed brightly in the darkness of her small bedroom. 2:08 a.m. Her hands trembling slightly, she reached for her lips – she could still feel the needle moving in and out, the voice that had felt like a hand around her throat. The dreams had started months ago, but they had only been snippets. Mocking green eyes. A deep laugh. Then, last week, they had changed. Stark Tower on fire. Empty spaces where there were once city streets. And that cave.

 _Come on, Darcy, it was just a dream._ Her still-aching palms told her differently. Darcy hadn’t been able to properly sleep for days. She had spent the last week drinking as much coffee as possible, and practicing her ‘honest’ face in the mirror every morning; Jane had seemed more concerned about her than usual, but Darcy couldn’t talk to her. What exactly was she supposed to say? “Yeah, I’ve been dreaming about Loki since before I even met him, and the dreams have been getting worse and worse. In fact, I think I’ve been dreaming about the future. My future. My death, actually, if we’re being totally honest.” Like that wouldn’t be a little worrisome.

Staring up at her ceiling, Darcy pulled her covers up to her chin. Closing her eyes, she tried to once again surrender to the darkness and the death that would inevitably be waiting for her as soon as she fell back asleep. Snuggling closer into her pillow, she clenched her fists and breathed deeply, trying to reassure herself. _There is nothing to be afraid of; this is all just in your head, anyway. And you know what that means? You can_ control _it. Think of hot guys. Food. Anything. Let’s go, Darce, happy thoughts!_ As her mind summoned an image of green eyes, she felt her heartbeat slow.

A small sigh escaped her lips as she felt a breeze in her hair, like cool fingertips. Sleep finally enveloped her like a cloud, and as her eyelids shut, she could have sworn she felt the light brush of a kiss against her cheek.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Loki get... a break. I may have wimped out a little, since this is my first fic :P

“Darce, you’ve been acting weird all week. What’s wrong?” Darcy stammers out an excuse, and Loki smiles bitterly to himself as he remembers how bad she has always been at lying. Her blue eyes look haunted, constantly scanning the room for something. Or someone.

The next night, he visits her as she sleeps. Tears stream down her cheeks as she cries out. Closing his eyes, Loki gently reaches for the door in her mind that leads into her dream. The fear pools in his bones as he hears It. She is falling, and he runs toward her, clenching his jaw as she slips straight through his arms. Pale hands pull out a needle, and he is powerless to stop them. Blue eyes gleam in the darkness, and her blood is pooling on the floor. He chokes back a sob as she awakes, and he can feel his invisibility charm almost slipping.

Her hands tremble, and he shakes with anger and self-loathing, realizing that this is all because of him. His eyes widen as he feels a tug under his ribcage, pulling him back towards the girl on the bed. The gods haven’t been prayed to for centuries, and Loki, God of Mischief, has never been called upon like this before. He can hear her heart softly singing to him. Still concealed by his magic, he steps forward and gently brushes her hair from her forehead.

Kissing her cheek, he casts an enchantment and watches Darcy fall into a peaceful sleep, curling up onto her right side as she hugs her pillow. He feels a now-familiar ache in his chest as he looks down at her. He remembers how inviting her lips would look as they curved upwards into a shy smile. Her blush when they first kissed; Darcy had never looked more flustered, and in his opinion, she had never looked more beautiful.

What happens next is an accident.

He knows he shouldn’t, but Loki has never been one for rules. He had promised himself that he would stay away from her in real life. He rationalizes that dreams don’t count, but remembering her nightmare from before, he shakes himself and turns to go. You fool. The world of the mind is just as real. Never forget that. But then he hears Darcy let out a contented sigh, breaking the silence, and before he can stop it, he is slipping, landing on her mattress with a soft thump. He holds his breath, but she remains asleep. Trying to get into a seated position, Loki winces as the wooden boards of her bed creak loudly, and he returns to lying on his side. He feels his heartbeat quicken as Darcy leans back into his chest, her head snuggling into the hollow of his throat. Tentatively, he lifts one arm and lightly encircles her waist. Every muscle in her body relaxes, and he feels his own eyelids grow heavy.

Don’t fall asleep, he chides himself. This is all you get. You must leave come morning. But it feels so right, and he hasn’t slept once since coming to Midgard this time around. He rests his head gently on the pillow, and sleep soon claims him, his arm tightening around Darcy’s waist.

\--

Darcy’s eyes widened as she took in her surroundings. A single long pane of glass made up one side of the room, allowing its occupant a complete view of the night sky and the treetops in the orchards below, quivering in the night breeze. Dark green drapes hung over the edges of the window. Tracing a finger over their intricate gold design, Darcy jumped as they sparked under her touch.

Organized bookcases lined the wall opposite to the room, filled with tightly packed books in varying tongues and scripts, their coloured spines slightly muted in the light of the dusky sky. Leaning over the pages of a still-open book lying on a desk beside the window, Darcy tilted her head as she looked at the sketch in the margins of the notebook. She started when she saw a shadow fall over the paper.

“Ms. Lewis?”

Darcy could feel Loki’s breath against her ear as he moved soundlessly closer, and she shivered as she breathed in the smell that she already recognized as uniquely him: leather and mint and something else, something that she guessed was his magic.

 

Turning, Darcy opened her mouth almost comically wide as she realized exactly where she was, and for the first time, her attention was drawn to the four-posted bed at the center of the room. Of course her brain couldn’t just come up with any room. It had to be a bedroom. Loki’s bedroom, to be precise. Damn my sub-conscience, damn it to hell, she moaned inwardly. She was suddenly incredibly aware of just how close the two of them were standing; she was beginning to regret turning around at all. Loki was tall, and he literally towered over her. Looking down at her feet, Darcy realized that she was barefoot and was still wearing her pyjamas. Blushing, she tried to subtly pull down the edges of her oversized ‘NYU’ T-shirt. It occurred to her now just how short it really was, only barely reaching her thighs. In contrast, Loki was wearing a loose white tunic and black leather pants that Darcy would probably have gladly admired any other time.

“I- I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to end up here,” she stammered. Loki cocked an eyebrow and stayed where he was. “I’ll just leave, then,” she ventured. Again, Loki stayed where he was, his hands resting on the desk on either side of her hips. God, her sub-conscience was stubborn. Giving up on salvaging the T-shirt situation, Darcy raised her palms and pressed them uselessly against Loki’s chest. He might have been slighter than Thor, but he was pure, lean muscle, and Darcy realized just how weak she was in comparison.

Her fingers were unconsciously splaying over his shirt, and she could feel his muscles clenching underneath. “This is a dream, Darcy. Just a dream,” she reassured herself as she made up her mind. If life was going to give her lemons… “No consequences,” she murmured, and raising herself up on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around Loki’s broad shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said more loudly.

Lifting her chin, she leaned forward, looking into his eyes for confirmation that he wasn’t going to push her away, but before she could press her lips to his, she felt a strong arm lifting her up effortlessly so that she was forced to wrap her legs around Loki’s waist. “Not so fast,” Loki whispered. Leaning forward, he began to place feather-light kisses everywhere but her lips. Each eyelid, each cheek… Darcy could feel her heartbeat steadily quickening in anticipation.

Finally, lifting Darcy’s head with one finger, Loki pressed his lips to hers. Darcy moaned against his mouth, and with a gentleness she would never have suspected, Loki bit down on her lower lip. Darcy let out a sigh, and he took advantage of her now-open mouth to slide his tongue along the inside of her lip. His tongue flicked hers, and Darcy returned the kiss eagerly, her hands now reaching up to run through Loki’s sleek black hair.

As he deepened the kiss further, she could feel herself moving backward, the hand at the small of her back tightening its hold. She gasped as Loki slammed them against the window pane, one hand reaching up behind her neck to cushion the impact as Loki continued to kiss her. Just when she was sure that she was going to forget to breathe, Loki’s hand fisted in Darcy’s hair and tilted her head back; he removed his lips from hers and began to kiss down her neck, nipping and biting.

\--

“Darcy? That’s like the third time you’ve spaced out on me today.” Darcy mumbled an apology and Jane’s eyes softened. “I don’t think you’ve been getting enough sleep; honestly, just go home and rest. Forget about all this –” she gestured at the notes spread over the table “– for a little while.” Darcy absentmindedly shuffled the papers in order and was shoving them into a folder when she saw Thor walking toward her, and promptly dropped the papers all over the table again. Clenching her shaking fists, she smiled at him. “I see you brought your shadow along,” she said, feigning a joking smile. Thor laughed and wrapped Darcy in a hug, whispering into her ear. “Could you talk to him for a while? He’s lonely, and he… makes Jane nervous.” Darcy nodded and smiled reassuringly at Thor.

“So, lean, green, and mean – how’s life on Midgard treating you?” Darcy tried to act normal, but Loki was wearing a distractingly tight white button-down, and her mind was providing very graphic visuals of what lay underneath. She could feel a blush already creeping up her cheeks. He cleared his throat but remained silent. “Same old, same old?” She winced as she heard her voice crack on the last word, but Loki didn’t react, instead walking toward the table littered with her notes. “I’m not sure you should see that,” she said, collecting the papers and pulling them to her. She felt her face growing hot as Loki smirked down at her, one arm leaning beside her hip against the desk. “I am the God of Mischief, you know.”

“Loki,” Thor boomed, as he made his way back out the glass doors. Loki winked at Darcy, pushing back off the desk. Darcy could have sworn she felt his hand brush her waist as her blue eyes met his green ones.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for PLOT! Also angsttt.

“Loki.” He turns around at the sound of the glass door to the lab quietly shutting behind her. The slight tremour in Darcy’s voice is gone, replaced with a thinly concealed anger. He mentally rebukes himself for responding at all, but it’s too late now. Cocking one eyebrow challengingly, he smirks at her. “Yes?”

“Whatever you’re doing, you need to stop.” He is almost surprised by how direct she is; his behaviour in the lab, he must admit, was imprudent of him. He had not meant to give her any reason to believe that her dream was anything more than that. “Pardon?” Darcy’s face remains impassive, and he tentatively reaches for her mind. “Get out of my head.” Her jaw is clenched, and though her eyes are frightened, her voice still possesses its original authority. “I have no interest in the thoughts of yet another empty-headed Midgardian. Are you _hiding_ something, Miss Lewis?” Loki purrs. He can’t resist another opportunity to watch her cheeks flush that bright shade of pink. “N-no.” He delights in how easily he can break her concentration, her thoughts immediately becoming easier to read. Her face reddens further as flashes from her dream the night before come back to her.

He smiles darkly, trying to ignore the hint of fear plainly visible on her face. “Coward.” Darcy doesn’t respond. It is too late to stop now, yet he knows that each word he utters next will be a leaden weight in his chest. He may not be Thor, for he too often acts as he wishes, not as he must, but he will _not_ permit anything or anyone – particularly himself – to jeopardize his mission. To jeopardize her safety.

“Rest assured, foolish mortal, you and your thoughts are of no import to a God.”

It feels like a punch in the gut as a hundred different emotions seem to flit across Darcy’s face. She looks almost hurt. Betrayed. It only lasts a moment, of course, and then her face settles back into a disdainful look. She rolls her eyes. “You weren’t looking so high and mighty when you were getting Hulk-smashed by my bro Bruce. A God might be brought to his knees by a ‘mere Midgardian.’” _Oh, darling. You’ll never know how true that is._

He forces an eye roll, and Darcy turns on her heel. “Just… Leave me alone, alright?” He knows this has been his goal the whole time, but it still hurts to hear her say it, and Loki can no longer find pleasure in watching another plan fall perfectly into place.

\--

 _… you and your thoughts are of no import to a God._ Darcy was known for being self-deprecating, but she had to admit that his words had still stung. She was inclined to believe Loki, to believe that it had just been another meaningless (although altogether more pleasant) dream – although a fantasy about the god who had attempted a takeover of her planet was worrisome for entirely different reasons - but she somehow doubted him. Perhaps she wouldn’t have been so suspicious if her brain weren’t stupidly reminding her that Loki was an adept liar… trying to satisfy an underlying hope that she would never admit, a hope that she was indeed important to him.

Darcy remained distracted for the rest of the day, and Jane eventually sighed and sent her home early, telling her to get some more rest. Winter had hit New York hard, and the pavement was covered in a thin layer of barely-there ice. The worst kind of ice – you can almost forget that it is there at all.

Lost in thought, Darcy only realized that she was falling when she felt the split-second rush of dropping through nothing but air, and then she landed hard on her butt. Her feet spilled over the corner of the street, and she gasped as she saw a van speed by. _That could have hit me!_ she inwardly fumed. Quickly getting up and brushing snow off her jeans, she looked both ways before crossing the street.

\--

That night, there was no respite from the nightmares. She was back in the cave. The same voice cut through the darkness: “Foolish mortal.” Darcy could hear her pulse pounding in her ears, and her lips were once again tightly sealed, but she bit her cheek, the pain bringing her back to reality – _focus, Darce_ \- and she mustered enough sass to roll her eyes. _I am really getting tired of being called a foolish mortal. I get enough of that from Loki…_ At the thought of Loki, she felt a twist in her gut, but at least it pushed away the nauseous feeling of anxiety that was previously there. _That jerk._ She turned around and took in her surroundings this time, ignoring the menacing threats that reverberated around her, coming from every direction. She walked forward blindly, hands held out in front of her; with a start, she stopped when she felt cool rock beneath her palms. Grounding herself for what was to come, she closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe calmly until her heartbeat had slowed. _No running this time; remember, it’s all just in your head_. Darcy pressed her back against the wall and waited. The voice grew louder, but she clenched her jaw and focused until the words grew hazy, and then faded away entirely.

The silence was almost comforting.

Her eyes snapped open when she heard a sharp intake of air. Her throat closed up, and she let out a muffled scream through her shut lips as she watched the familiar figure coming closer. A pair of bright blue eyes were the only real light source in the cave, and their owner’s raspy breathing, the only sound to break the stillness. He – for it was a he (the faint light around the figure outlined a decidedly male silhouette) – moved with the grace of a cat, and Darcy wished she weren’t reminded of a tiger about to attack.

She was frozen in place as his pale hands reached toward her. Her breath caught at the feeling of cool fingers gently caressing her cheek. He was close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath, and she knew that if she tilted her chin up, she would be staring straight into those burning eyes. Lifting her gaze, she looked into the bright blue depths. Everything seemed to stand still for a moment, and she felt like she was being devoured by the light. Her fearlessness was leaving her, and she felt suddenly drained. _Wake up, Darce, wake up wakeupwakeupwakeup._ She trembled as she felt a hand coming to rest at her throat, slowly tightening its grip. _Do it. Just make it stop._ The figure just continued to look down at her, and she realized that the true pain couldn’t be anything compared to the agony of its anticipation, the reliving of the same pain over and over as her brain attempted to prepare. She almost smiled at the familiar flash of a needle, bracing herself for the pain. _Now who’s a coward, Loki?_

The hands stilled suddenly, and she watched in shock as she felt wetness dripping on her cheeks. The blue light above her flickered, and then faded to green.

_Lo-_

Darcy awoke with a start. _Fuck._


End file.
